


Green Eyes

by TheJediAreGay



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics)
Genre: Baby Damian Wayne, Fluff, Gen, some angst too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:47:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23714647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheJediAreGay/pseuds/TheJediAreGay
Summary: Just like that, Bruce is suddenly the single father of a 3 month old baby. He just wishes he knew what the hell he was doing.
Relationships: Talia al Ghul/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 33
Kudos: 293





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I based this heavily off the comic Batman: Son of the Demon, but you only need to look up the summary of the comic to get the gist. Even then you'll be fine if you haven't read the plot. And before any Talia haters come at me for this, let me just get a few things straight:  
> \- The awful way in which Damian was conceived pre-reboot was written by Grant Morrison, who pulled his inspiration from Batman: Son of the Demon WITHOUT ACTUALLY HAVING READ IT, and he said he just "forgot the sex was consensual". He later admitted this was an error and that he shouldn't have done this.  
> \- Talia has always been a complex, multi-layered character with a strong set of morals who only killed when it was absolutely necessary and was heavily conflicted between the father she loved and the man she loved. It's only been in recent years that DC has turned her into a one-dimensional villain.  
> \- DC's entire treatment of her is hella racist and misogynistic and if you're in the hating Talia bandwagon I suggest you do more research into what kind of character she was before Grant Morrison got his hands on her and how awful DC is to their women characters of color (i.e. drawing her darker when she's the villain of the comic, etc.).  
> In other words, I will forever be bitter that they did Talia so dirty.  
> But if you don't ship it, rest assured their interactions are mostly confined to the first chapter.  
> With all that being said, enjoy!

The message came to Bruce two days previous, through an encrypted channel. It sat on his computer, waiting for him, when he stumbled in that night from patrol.

_Beloved- Thursday. 8PM. W.E. rooftop. It’s urgent._

He’d sat frozen in his seat, staring at the offending message. His eyes scanned it over, and over, and over, until he could see the words on the inside of his eyelids. He feared the fresh sutures on his abdomen would burst open from the force of heavy breaths. Only one person had claim to that term of endearment. There was no room for doubt; the message came from Talia. And she needed a favor.

Hadn’t there been a time when he would have done anything for her, if she had just asked him to? It seemed so long ago. He felt like years stood between them. In reality, it had only been 10 months. And what a long 10 months they had been. He’d gone to great lengths to forget about the few months they shared in the desert. About her and the “marriage” and the baby that never got to _be_ a baby. It was gone, dead in Talia’s womb while it was still the size of a flower seed – a fact he only knew because he looked up what size fetuses were at 2 months, in some masochistic attempt to poke at his wounds. And with the baby went their relationship. The tie that bound them snapped that day, and he should have left it buried in the sand. He should have deleted the message and refused to dredge up the past.

But he did not delete that message. Which led him where he is now, standing on the rooftops of Wayne Enterprises, waiting. For her, for closure, for an ending to their story. He’s been living in a state of limbo for too long. It’s time to leave the past in the past. After today, he can release her from his heart and from his head.

He hears her approach from behind, her footfalls soft and graceful. When he turns around, there she is before him, all poise and perfection. She wears an inconspicuous outfit consisting of dark pants and a blouse with a sling of some kind wrapping down her chest. Like the strap to a quiver.

Interesting, he thinks, that she brought weapons to their meeting. He doesn’t let himself feel caught off guard, though. She still associates with her father, so he can’t rule out the possibility that he sent her here to do something. Whether that something would be luring him back or killing him for his betrayal, he can’t guess. A small voice in the back of his head tells him, _that’s ridiculous, Talia isn’t a threat,_ but it’s trampled by the memories of their last interaction. She had told him to leave. She chose to stay with her father, she chose to be his enemy. Putting her in this box makes it all easier, less painful. It won’t sting as badly when she walks out of his life for good.

He gazes at Talia with an emotionless mask. All the hurt, the anger, the sadness that accompanied their last meeting is compartmentalized for this moment.

“Why are you here?”

She doesn’t flinch at the harsh tone or let her gaze waver from him. Her bright green eyes, brighter than the desert stars, are clear and sharp. And god, he’d forgotten what those eyes can do to him. He could drown in those eyes and die a happy man.

“Do you want me to leave?” she asks, her voice strong and steady.

He blinks at her, dumbfounded by her response. Talia always finds a way to throw him off. Maybe that was what attracted him to her in the first place. Bruce thought he knew how to read people before he met her. He’s been trained to be a living, breathing lie detector, an expert in human behavior. He knows what others are going to do before they do it.

But Talia isn’t easy to read. He can never predict her movements. She’s a mystery, refusing to be tied down by the expectations or beliefs of others. Talia is motivated by passion, whereas Bruce is motivated by logic. She in equal parts thrills and fascinates him.

He had not been expecting her response. The second it leaves her lips, he is forced to relive their last encounter. He hadn’t left her when he found out she lost the baby. Not yet. He had every intention of continuing their relationship before she told him to leave without her. He had wanted her by his side forever, and he had told her as much.

So he knows what his answer is before it leaves his mouth. Before he can stop it, either.

“No. I don’t want you to leave.”

Her posture relaxes slightly, as if she had expected his rejection. And maybe she had. The last time they saw each other, she was the one rejecting _him_. If he wanted to get back at her, make her feel some of the pain he’s been carrying for the past 10 months, he could have told her to go back home to her father and never contact him again. And some sick, evil part of him that he’d rather not admit to having _does_ want to do that. He squashes it down quickly. He’s not angry at Talia, he never has been. She’s suffered just as much as he has, if not more. The least he can do is hear her out.

Talia lets out a small sigh and takes a few tentative steps forward. When she stops, she’s close enough for him to see the cracks in her foundation; the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, the dark circles betraying her exhaustion, the fly-away strands of hair sticking out of her braid. She normally looks polished no matter the occasion. Concern spikes in him.

“I lied to you,” she whispers. “And I’m scared.”

The fear in her voice is palpable and completely out of character for her. If there’s one thing Bruce has always known about Talia, it’s that she’s strong. She’s always had to be. She’s never had a choice. They’re similar in that way. Neither has the privilege of showing weakness around others. Only around each other. Bruce has never feared letting his guard down around her, because absolutely no part of him believes she would stab him in the back.

But apparently he was wrong.

“Lied to me about what?” he asks, his voice tight.

Talia breaks their eye contact and looks at the ground in front of her. Once again, the complete opposite of anything he’s ever expected of her. Whatever her deception is, she’s ashamed of it. Bruce wonders, just for a split second, if he should have brought Nightwing for back up. He could hold his own against a few assassins if need be. But if Ra’s is around…

Shame shoots through him. Talia wouldn’t do that to him.

“The baby,” she says at last. “I lied to you about the baby.”

He thought he’d finally moved on from that loss, but hearing her speak of it brings on a fresh wave of grief. It’s duller now, but the sharpness of the knife makes little difference when he’s being stabbed through the heart.

And now she says she _lied_ about it. What could she have possibly…?

A sound comes from what Bruce had assumed to be a quiver on Talia’s back. It’s a soft, mewling sound. Like that of a… baby.

His breath catches in his throat. It can’t be… She couldn’t have _possibly_ meant…

Talia carefully takes the sling off and pulls a squirming bundle to her chest.

“Beloved, this is our son.”

The tiny creature – a boy, their _son_ – calms down a bit as Talia gently passes him over to Bruce’s waiting arms. He doesn’t know when he reached out to hold him, but he’s already in the position by the time she deposits him in the crook of his elbow.

This can’t be real. This has to be a dream, a small piece of hope crafted by his sick brain so he’ll feel the ache of this loss all over again when he wakes up. But this baby is warm and soft in his hands, as real as the ground he stands on. His head spins trying to reconcile the fact that the baby he thought he lost is laying in his arms. She lied to him. She lied to him and now he has a child, a child he didn’t know about and wasn’t prepared for and…

A yawn escapes the baby’s mouth and he opens his big eyes, staring up at Bruce.

Any negative thought, any hint of anger that existed in him disappears the second he looks into the boy’s bright green eyes. Just like Talia’s. His heart clenches painfully.

_He’s beautiful._

Those big green eyes are framed by long, dark lashes, also belonging to the boy’s mother. His head is covered by a thick layer of shiny black hair. His skin is a soft beige, several shades darker than Bruce’s and maybe half a shade lighter than Talia’s. His cheeks are full and rosy, his nose looks like a little button, and he’s so, _so_ tiny. So tiny that Bruce fears breaking him. He’s the most beautiful little thing Bruce has ever set eyes on in his entire life. How did _he_ have a part in making something so beautiful?

Bruce is overcome by a love he can’t explain, one so powerful and all-consuming that it makes him want to weep. It’s instantaneous. He understands it now, why parents cry when they see their child brought into the world. Such a flood of emotion is overwhelming.

It occurs to him that nothing he did before this moment matters. It’s all meaningless compared to finding out he’s responsible for this life that was brought into the world. He holds a gloved finger in front of the baby’s face and watches in awe as a tiny fist wraps around it. To think he’d missed out on at least 3 months of his life…

“Why, Talia?”

Unshed tears pool in her eyes, and he should be indifferent to it. Angry, even. Maybe he should be pleased that she feels so ashamed. But looking into those green eyes, the same eyes that now belong to his son, he feels nothing but gratitude towards her. He gave her his passion and she gave him the greatest gift he’ll ever receive.

Is it possible to fall in love with the same pair of eyes twice?

“I did not intend to keep him,” she admits. “I was going to give him to a family that could take care of him and love him as their own.”

He stares at her in disbelief. How could she not want to keep this child? Bruce has had him in his arms for only a few minutes and he already knows he never wants to let go.

“When I told you I was carrying your child, I saw what it sparked in you. How much harder you pushed yourself to keep us both safe.”

She closes her eyes momentarily, seemingly pained by the memory.

“You nearly died. And I knew then that we would never be a normal, _safe_ family. Our son would lose us like you lost your parents. And like I lost my mother.”

Guilt rolls around in his stomach. He hadn’t given a thought to his baby’s future when he went to battle with Qayin. If he had died that day, his son would be fatherless. Just like Bruce. And with the life Talia leads, she could very well die young too. The cycle of orphaned children would continue. Maybe Talia is much more selfless than he is, being willing to give their child up.

But she _hadn’t_ given him up.

“My father believed my lie as well,” she continues. “Around my 6 month mark, it became nearly impossible to hide under baggy clothes. So I requested a long vacation. He thought I was still grieving the loss of the baby. And of you.”

 _I grieved for you too,_ he thinks bitterly.

“I intended to leave him somewhere where I knew he would be taken care of, like a hospital or a church. But when he was born…”

Her face softens when she gazes down at the baby in Bruce’s arms. A ghost of a smile graces her lips.

“I couldn’t do it. He was mine. _Ours_. I just couldn’t find it in me to give him to someone else.”

The longer Bruce looks at their now sleeping baby’s face, the more traces of himself he finds. The jaw, the lips, the cheekbones… Their baby got only the best parts of them.

“Which is why I’m giving him to you.”

Bruce tears his eyes away from the baby to look at Talia. Her eyes are downcast, but he can see the tears spilling out. Any joy he could have derived from being told the baby was his to keep is tainted by the insinuation in Talia’s words. She’s _giving_ the baby to him. Handing him over. _Relinquishing him_.

And all of the sudden, he’s back in the desert. He’s by her hospital bed and she’s telling him to leave, that they can’t be together. The crack in his heart that he thought had begun to mend itself splits back open.

“Talia…,” he breathes. “Please, stay here in Gotham. Not for me, but for our son. He needs you in his life.”

 _I need you too_ , he wants to say, but decides against it.

She shakes her head and turns her body away from him, as if she can’t bear to look at either of them.

“My father still has no idea about his existence, but he’s growing weary of my extended vacation. If I leave him for good, he’ll find me. And if he finds out I’ve had a son…”

Her sentence trails off as she looks off towards the Gotham skyline. But she doesn’t have to finish her thought for Bruce to know what her fears are. Ra’s is an ancient man who holds himself to ancient values. One of those values is that of needing a male heir to leave his legacy to. Talia, though twice as capable as any man, is simply not enough for him. That’s why he was so insistent on a union between Bruce and Talia; that way his new son-in-law could serve as his heir.

Now that his plan to entrap Bruce had fallen through, who better to replace him than him and Talia’s son?

The thought of _Ra’s al Ghul_ of all people ripping his son away from his arms makes his blood boil. He’ll die before he lets that happen. But he isn’t willing to sacrifice Talia’s role in their son’s life for the sake of keeping Ra’s off his tail.

“I can keep you _both_ safe,” he insists.

Talia turns back around to face him, her eyes blazing with anger.

“ _No,_ ” she hisses. “I don’t want our son to grow up caught in a war between you and my father. If he knows Damian exists, he’ll _never_ cease in his efforts to find him.”

 _Damian_.

_His son’s name is Damian._

In those few quiet moments they were able to steal after she found out she was pregnant, they had discussed naming the baby Thomas if it was a boy. At the time, Bruce thought that was what he wanted; a way to honor his deceased father. But now hearing his son’s actual name, _Damian_ , he feels it suits him well. It’s a name entirely his own. Only _he_ will be able to decide what that name will mean.

Some of the fire in Talia’s eyes has died down, but she’s still tensed up and ready for a fight. Bruce knows it’s impossible to get through to her in this state. He’s tried in the past. Her stubbornness is one of her more frustrating, but admirable, qualities.

“I will sneak away to visit when I can,” she concedes. “I want to have a part in my son’s life, however small that part may be. But I will not put either of you in harm’s way by staying in Gotham. We cannot be together, Beloved. No matter how badly I wish for it.”

There has been no doubt in Bruce’s mind, from the moment he met her, that Talia is his future. They continually go through long periods of separation, when it seems like their relationship is irrevocably broken, but they always come back to each other in the end. One day, he knows, the separations will come to an end. It just isn’t something he was able to admit to himself in the past. But they’re tied together. She’s the mother of his child. Their bond goes deeper now than it ever has before.

In his heart of hearts, he knows this is not the end of their story.

He can see her longing gaze, directed at their son. The anguish is evident in her eyes. He can hardly imagine what it must be like for her; raising a child for several months, falling more in love with him every day, only to be forced to hand him over to someone else. It’s enough to break anybody’s heart in two.

Wordlessly, Bruce hands Damian over to Talia. She opens her mouth to argue with him, even as her arms automatically shift to accommodate him. He holds a hand up to silence her.

“I’m giving him to you so you can say your goodbyes,” he says, as gently as possible.

Tears fill her eyes yet again as she gives him a quick nod. It seems motherhood has made her more prone to emotion, and he can hardly blame her for that. The tiny creature in her arms has already stirred up emotions in him that he thought to be dormant.

She raises Damian’s body up until their foreheads touch.

“Mama loves you so much, Damian,” she whispers, her voice breaking. “I always will. Be brave, my son. Be _happy_.”

The baby remains blissfully asleep, unaware of his mother’s tears starting to make a track down his own cheeks. Even though he won’t remember this moment, Bruce will make sure to tell him about it often. He vows to himself that his son will grow up knowing how much his mother loves him.

After a few more moments of holding Damian to her chest, Talia hands him back to Bruce. Then she reaches up to place a hand on Bruce’s cheek. The two gaze at each other, and Bruce knows, this goodbye will be their most difficult one yet. She stands on her tip-toes to press a soft, lingering kiss on his lips. Her lips are salty from her tears, but he savors it, knowing it will be their last kiss for quite some time.

“Goodbye, Beloved,” she whispers.

And with that, she turns on her heels and slips off into the shadows. Bruce stands there, staring at the spot where she stood only seconds ago, one thought pounding through his head.

_What now?_

The baby begins to stir in his arms, making small noises of discontent. Bruce begins to rock him gently, but it feels awkward. He’s never had to comfort a baby before. Every time he’s encountered a baby on patrol, he’s been able to quickly hand it off to its parents or the GCP or an EMT. But there’s no one to hand this baby off to. This baby is his, his _son_ , and it’s his job to take care of him. This little life in his arms is completely dependent on him for his survival. The thought sends a shiver through him. It’s terrifying, perhaps the most terrifying thing he’ll ever experience, but it’s also awe inspiring. He has the chance to give his son a childhood that he was robbed of the night he lost his parents. Talia’s words from the day they found out about her pregnancy come back to him.

_“It’ll be the happiest baby in the world!”_

“Shhh, it’s alright, Damian,” he soothes. “I’m here. It’s all going to be alright.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Master Bruce, if you would be so kind as to explain where you acquired a baby?”

In Bruce’s rush to get Damian back to the manor while he agonized over how he was going to raise a baby, he hadn’t given any thought about how he was going to explain this to Alfred.

Or Jason.

Or Dick.

Or anyone, really.

The second he stepped out of the car, holding Damian against his chest, he was met by his butler staring at him and the baby with barely concealed bemusement on his face.

“Talia,” is all he says in response.

Several emotions pass over Alfred’s face in the span of a few seconds; confusion, understanding, and finally, awe. He looks down at the little creature with the same amazement that was on Bruce’s face not more than an hour before. He already knows that this child is the one they thought Bruce had lost. Alfred was the only person he told about the pregnancy. Jason just knew that he was on an extended mission. And he and Dick are barely on speaking terms at the moment, so he didn’t notice Bruce’s absence. But Alfred, he had mourned with Bruce for the loss of what could have been. In many ways, he had mourned because Bruce wouldn’t let himself mourn. He’d taken on the grief for the both of them.

“Master Bruce…” he breathes.

“Alfred, meet Damian,” he responds, a rare smile spreading across his face.

With the utmost care, Bruce transfers Damian into Alfred’s waiting arms. The older man instantly knows the right angle to hold him at, how to rock him just gently enough for him to stay in a peaceful slumber. He must remember how to care for babies from when Bruce was growing up. He thinks, in this moment, he’s never been more grateful for his old friend. Maybe with him around, Bruce won’t fail spectacularly at caring for a baby.

Alfred stares down at Damian, clearly already besotted.

“He’s beautiful,” Alfred says. “Dare I say, one of most beautiful babies I’ve ever seen. Tied with you of course, Master Bruce.”

Bruce smirks.

“Wait until you see his eyes.”

When Alfred is finally satisfied with gazing at the baby, he gingerly deposits him back into Bruce’s arms. After seeing the expertise with which Alfred held him, Bruce feels self-conscious with his stiff-armed hold. Is he supposed to rock him like Alfred did? Is there a certain way to rock a baby? What if he’s too rough?

It occurs to him that he’s never changed a diaper before either. He doesn’t even know how often a baby needs to be changed. He doesn’t know how often they need to be fed either, or how long they’re supposed to sleep. In a perfect world, he would have had 9 months to figure all these things out. But that perfect world doesn’t exist, and he needs to learn how to care for a baby in an instant. He can’t rely on Alfred for _everything_.

“Why did Miss Talia not come with you?” Alfred asks, looking behind Bruce as if he expects her to pop out of the Batmobile at any second.

Bruce sighs before explaining the meeting on the rooftop to Alfred. He can feel Damian stir in his arms in the middle of the story, and a sudden panic seizes him. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if Damian cries. A small, ridiculous part of him thinks he might just cry with him. He’s woefully prepared to take care of a crying baby. Luckily, he remains asleep. But Bruce knows that won’t last forever.

By the end of his story, Alfred is gazing sadly at Damian, no doubt feeling sorry for this baby that has been separated from his mother.

“Is Jason asleep?” Bruce asks.

“Out like a light, sir.”

Eventually, Bruce will have to explain the new addition to Jason. But he’s relieved to know that tonight will not be the night. He’s far too drained to attempt that conversation at the moment. He doesn’t even know how he’s going to care for Damian for the night. He has no crib, no diapers, no formula, and he knows there’s a million other little things that he can’t think of off the top of his head.

But it seems Alfred is five steps ahead of him, as always.

“I will go to a 24 hour convenience store for supplies, sir,” he says gently. “I won’t be able find a crib tonight, but it should be simple enough to make a bassinet of sorts out of pillows and blankets. The young master can sleep in your bed for the time being.”

Bruce isn’t sure he’s thrilled with the idea. It doesn’t seem safe, someone his size sleeping next to a baby. The bed is a large one, so he’ll just have to make sure to sleep as far away from the baby as possible. Or at least, _lay_ as far away from the baby as possible. He doubts he’ll actually get any sleep tonight.

He hands Damian off to Alfred again as he heads to the locker area to change out of his batsuit. Usually when he’s taking off his suit at the end of the night, he’s exhausted and, more often than not, injured. Now his body thrums with nervous energy. The initial shock of being handed a baby and told it was his son has faded, replaced with a kind of fear he’s not familiar with. He’s fearful but happy; hopeful.

When he’s changed into his usual post patrol attire, a comfortable cotton shirt and sweatpants, he goes to collect Damian from Alfred. His arms are getting used to holding a baby. He’s perfected the balance between gentleness and firmness that it requires. Or at least, he thinks he has.

“I’ll be back with diapers in under 30 minutes,” Alfred promises.

Bruce gives a small, appreciative smile.

“I guess I’ll be relying on you for more than just stitching me up after a mission now.”

Alfred raises an eyebrow.

“You mean far more than just stitching you up, cooking all your meals, cleaning the entire manor, _and_ helping you care for young Master Jason?” he asks.

“I see your point.”

He holds Damian firmly against his chest and makes his way towards the stairs, but a hand on his shoulder pulls him back. He whips around and finds Alfred smiling softly, tears just barely gathering in the corners of his eyes.

“Master Bruce…,” he breathes. “Words cannot express how happy I am that you’ve been given this gift.”

Bruce can’t help but return the smile.

“You and me both, old friend.”

Walking up the stairs and to his bedroom doesn’t jostle the baby enough to wake him up, thankfully. Bruce can just barely hear his soft, steady breaths. Hopefully he won’t wake up for a while. He’s not sure at what age babies start sleeping through the night, but he hopes it’s three months. His nightly activities leave him with little sleep as is.

He sets Damian down on his comforter gently, then gets to work grabbing pillows to arrange a makeshift bassinet. Two pillows will work just fine, he thinks. There’s more than enough of them on his massive bed. He goes to his dresser and pulls out a few spare blankets, laying them down on top of the pillows and tucking them underneath. It’s not perfect, but it’ll do for now.

When he reaches for Damian, he finds the baby wide awake. His big green eyes stare up at his father, just observing him. Not for the first time tonight, Bruce finds himself mesmerized. Despite all the unknowns, the countless questions and fears that accompany suddenly being entrusted with a baby, he feels nothing but love when he looks into his eyes. Like Alfred said, Damian is a gift; one he knows he’s definitely not worthy of.

He reaches a hand out and runs the back of his fingers down Damian’s cheek, his touch feather-light. The baby’s skin is soft against his own rough, calloused hands. His heart stutters in his chest when Damian smiles at him. He doesn’t think he’s done anything in his life good enough to deserve that smile. Babies love without thought, without reason. He’ll revel in it while it still lasts.

Bruce scoops him up and lays him on the pillows. Damian reaches a pudgy hand up grab onto Bruce’s finger in a tight grip. Do all babies have grips this tight, he wonders?

“Hello, Damian,” he whispers. “I’m your…”

He stops. What is he supposed to call himself? ‘Daddy’ feels so foreign, ‘father’ is too formal. Even ‘dad’ doesn’t sound right in his head. He never had this problem with Dick or Jason. They just call him Bruce. But he can’t exactly teach a baby to call him Bruce without raising some disapproving eyebrows.

“We’ll decide that later,” he mutters. Whether it’s to himself or the baby, he’s not sure.

Damian has long since lost interest in Bruce’s finger and settled on shoving his own hand into his mouth.

“I know this isn’t… ideal,” Bruce continues. “You deserve to be raised by _both_ your parents. Or at least by a better father than me. I’m sure Dick would love to tell you what he thinks about my parenting skills.”

He’ll have to tell Jason tomorrow, that’s already a given, but he hasn’t even begun to think about when or how he’s going to tell Dick. He’s positive that Dick doesn’t want to hear from him at the moment, but this is far too important _not_ to contact him over. Whether or not Dick will decide to continue talking to him after finding out about Damian… that remains to be seen.

He places a gentle hand on Damian’s little chest, feeling his heartbeat. The one thing he knows for sure is that there’s no way Dick won’t fall in love with this baby the second he sees him.

Jason may take a little convincing.

“I don’t want to mess this up,” he admits. “I don’t want to mess _you_ up. But I don’t know _how_ to be a father, Damian. I was so young when I lost my own. When I took Dick in, I told myself he’d already had a father before me, that I wouldn’t try to take on that role. But I couldn’t stop myself from seeing him as my son. And now he won’t even speak to me.”

He sighs, moving his hand up to his son’s cheek.

“And Jason… sometimes I think he hates me too. He’s a sweet boy, but there’s an anger in him. I’m afraid I’m going to fail him the way I failed Dick. And now I’m afraid that one day, I’ll fail _you_.”

It must be sleep deprivation getting to him, making him unload his thoughts and fears on a 3 month old. Damian is blissfully unaware of his father’s musings, grabbing at Bruce’s hand and trying to shove it into his mouth. Bruce chuckles and pulls his hand away from the infant’s grasp, reaching up to pet his feather soft hair. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen this much hair on a baby.

“But I guess none of that really matters at the moment,” he murmurs. “You’re here with me now, and there’s nothing I can do to change it. There’s nothing I would ever _want_ to do to change it.”

Damian’s big green eyes lock on Bruce’s. For a few moments, he just stares. Then his face breaks out in an adorable, toothless smile. A little squeaky giggle escapes him, and he reaches his arms up towards his father.

He’s had Damian for a few hours at most, so he thinks it would be premature of him to assume what kind of personality he has, but so far he seems like a happy baby. Happier than Bruce can ever remember being, and happier than he’s ever been able to make Dick and Jason. Damian is too young to have tragedies weighing him down like the rest of them do.

Bruce swears, as long as he lives, Damian will never suffer the way he has. He won’t stumble home with a knife stuck between his ribs, trying to stem the bleeding. He won’t wake up screaming from nightmares that are made up of very real, horrific memories. He won’t grow into a hardened, cold adult who can’t let anyone in. History won’t repeat itself.

He lays down beside the baby, propping his arm up to rest his chin on his hand while he gazes at him. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of looking at Damian, but he can’t help the painful twinge in his chest when he notices a feature he got from Talia. He can protect Damian from all physical harm, but he can’t even give him both his parents. All because of Ra’s. He’s never hated the man more than he does in this moment.

Damian starts cooing, and Bruce reaches over to him. He strokes one of the baby’s chubby cheeks with his thumb.

“I love you,” he whispers.

He hasn’t said those words in a long, long time. Part of him suspects it’s the fact that Damian can’t understand him that makes him bold enough to voice it. It’s like saying it into an empty room with no one around to bear witness to his moment of vulnerability. But he tells himself he’ll have to start getting used to saying it. He’s sure if he were to read any parenting book, it would tell him those three words are an important part of raising a happy, well-adjusted child.

He’s sure Talia used to say those words to their son.

“I love you,” he repeats. “And I promise you, you’ll be happy here with me.”

When Alfred returns from the store 10 minutes later, holding a few shopping bags full of supplies, he finds father and son both fast asleep. He smiles warmly at the sight, then walks over to gently lift the covers up to Bruce’s shoulders.

A picture or two may or may not have been taken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys are prepared for Jason to show up in the next chapter!


End file.
